


Red/Blue

by hanging_by_a_heartstring



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: ??????, Gen, I'd say chansaw but is it really, Sad kinda, There are some swears avert your eyes children, colors!, jk we're all Sinners here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 23:20:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8820307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanging_by_a_heartstring/pseuds/hanging_by_a_heartstring
Summary: Idk man but basically Color Symbolism and lots of pov switching between Heather Chandler and Veronica





	

She was red.  
She was fire, she was power, she was the almighty, she was...a mythic bitch. She walked through the halls of westerberg like she owned the place. She did. I just wanted out. I wanted to be away from this place, to be somewhere beautiful. In the interest of making my senior year as painless as possible, I had every intention to lay low, but Miss Red changed all that.  
༄  
She was blue. Well, she became blue. I made her blue. I saw potential in her, somehow, and I made her one of us, raised her up from nothing. Honestly, I was a bit possessive of her, but she was pretty much my creation. I made her blue. Blue: intelligence, trust, loyalty. Blue, a quiet power in contrast to my own. Blue croquet ball, she cracks jokes as we play. Blue blazer, she gets out of my car and walks into the convenience store. Blue knee socks, she walks towards Psycho Trenchcoat Kid. What?  
༄  
He was dark, mysterious, he got in a fight at school as I wondered if he would fight like that for my sake. We flirt, he buys me a big gulp. Heather is honking at me, angry, her red lips turned down in a frown. I ignore her. She storms into the store, grabs my hand, and pulls me out. I glance back, then look forward at the red scrunchie holding her curly hair.  
༄  
We're at a party, the music is loud, and I'm not sure if I really like these things or if I just got used to them. At least she's away from Trenchcoat Guy. I take a shot, then spot Veronica being harassed by an idiot football player. I wonder if her being here is much better than if she were with that crazy guy she seems to like so much. Whatever. I try to have a little fun with Miss Dumptruck, who somehow had the guts to show up here. It's my job to rip them out. She's friends with Veronica, blue and loyal Veronica, who throws my fun into the pool. Maybe it's the alcohol talking, but I feel her pulling away from me, pulling towards What's-His-Name and Martha Dumptruck. I'm losing her, aren't I? No, I won't let her win, I'm the one with power here, how dare she? I don't need her, I don't neeeeed her.  
༄  
I believe that I'm a good person. As a good person, I wasn't about to let them do that to Martha. As a good person, I can't be part of their little clique anymore. I didn't think there would be consequences, but of course there are, of course there are, I can't just go back to the way things were. Heather pushes me against a wall, her nails are red and immaculate. She's screaming in my face. I can smell the alcohol on her breath, I can feel the effects of it in my stomach...I don't feel so good. I wake up in someone else's bed, head pounding, and the events of the night before hit me like a brick. Oh no, I threw up on her. Ohhhh noooo, she exiled me or something. Oh. I'm in JD's bed. Ohhh god, I have to go apologize.  
༄  
Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Last night did not go well. I have a hangover that could probably kill a small horse, my shoes probably still smell like vomit, and Veronica is probably out of the picture now. I don't want to get out of bed. Is someone in my house? Wait. Someone's yelling. Stop yelling. Veronica? Keep yelling. She wants to apologize, but she won't be off the hook just like that. I demand that she makes a prairie oyster. When she brings it to me, Trenchcoat is with her. What the hell? No, no, no, now I'm angrier. She's still dressed in blue, I still remember making her blue. I make her get down on her knees to ask me to forgive her, but she's still dead to me. I take the cup. It smells like chemicals, and it's blue. Of course it's blue.  
༄  
She gets up to take the cup out of my hand, her short red robe barely covering her thighs and her red nails still perfect despite the party last night. I hear her red nails click against the cup as she takes it, I watch as she gulps the contents of it down. Her eyes widen, and for the first time I see panic on her face. Heather, all red passion and power, never panicked. She stumbles, she screams, she falls and crashes through a glass table. My mouth falls open in shock, I kneel beside her and look into the cup I gave her. Blue? No. No, no, no. The glass from the table scratched her arm, her blood is as red as she was before she...died. Her blood is as red as she was before....I killed her. Shit.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey friend thanks for reading


End file.
